Can you?

I want you to lay down on your bed and not move, for 15 minutes. Not a problem, right? Just lay down, don’t readjust your back, head; don’t cross your legs, flex your hips, or “settle yourself in”. Just lay the way you land.Don’t let yourself take a deep breath, just breathe shallow. 15 minutes, now…

If a gnat or fly lands on your arm, don’t swat it.  If you hear someone come in the door, don’t raise you head and call to them. If you feel a cramp, suffer thru it. Do you itch? somewhere? your head, your back, your nose, ear… do not scratch! If you are cold, or hot, don’t worry, in another 14 minutes you can fix that. Funny how full your bladder feels when you can’t go.

Now, listen to your baby cry.

3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15

HOw many minutes did you make it?

That was my daughter’s life last year. Every day. Every minute. She couldn’t get up and go get her baby. She couldn’t feed her baby, or herself. An ant crawling on her arm felt like a roach. An itch was maddening. She couldn’t get to the bathroom. With each day, she lost a little more. She could not turn her head, or cough, and swallowing was getting harder every day. As she lost her ability to breathe, she lost her voice with it.

She watched, as friends came with their babies, which she loved, but hurt at the same time. And we watched as people picked up her daughter and played, talked and cooed with her. She watched her husband bathe the baby. She couldn’t see the tub so she watched on a camera hooked up to a TV. She just didn’t want to miss out.

You have no idea…you cannot. You just have NO idea.

Keri had alot of hurt in her life. Her heart was broken over and over, and somehow, she pushed herself past it, over it, through it. When she got pregnant, she was so happy; wanted to be pregnant, and shop for baby clothes. Wanted to complain about having to work with a big belly. She would have given anything to enjoy that time.

Instead, she lost her job, her insurance, her pride. Her self worth, plans, dreams, schemes. She lost all semblance of modesty. She lost all the things a mom gets to do, except the worry of what will happen to her little girl. She asked everyone for promises; most of them were for Kellyn’s welfare.

She never doubted God could heal her. She believed, until a year ago in August, that he would. Then she began to know.

One thing she never lost; OUR undying, unchanging, everlasting love.

You have no idea how much you have.

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